The Question
by icameheretowinry
Summary: This multi-chapter fic is set around a decade post-Promise Day and deals with Alphonse finally coming to terms with his mother's death. I hope you enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

"Papa?"

Al slowly opened his eyes. The dim light of the lamp next to him did a poor job of illuminating the small reading room tucked in a back corner of the house. A newspaper drooped lazily across his lap. HIs gaze fell upon the child standing in front of him; a tiny girl no older than four with disheveled ebony hair. Her turquoise eyes sparkled when she noticed he was awake.

"You fell asleep again!" she giggled, her head slightly cocked to the right.

Al sat up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Slipping into spontaneous naps was still a frequent occurrence, as if his body was still catching up from years without sleep. He carefully folded up the newspaper and placed it on a small table next to him.

"What is it, Sweet Pea?" he asked with a groggy smile as he hoisted her onto his lap.

"I visited Granny Pinako today!" she exclaimed.

"I know!" he said with a chuckle, "Did you have fun?"

If possible, the little girl's eyes lit up even more.

"Yes!" she said, "We made cookies and played outside and made paper snowflakes and read a book and Granny Pinako told me how much I took like your mommy!"

All stiffened a little as his daughter finished her sentence. He recognized that turquoise gaze from the minute he first held her.

"Oh… Did she now?" he asked.

"Mmhmm!"

Al shifted slightly in his chair.

"Papa?" she asked.

"Hm?"

"What was she like?"

A crease appeared between Al's brows.

"Who?" he asked, although he knew too well.

His daughter's piecing gaze met his own.

"Your mommy!"

Al leaned back in his chair.

"Well, your grandmother, Trisha," he began, "She was… Umm… She was…"

Al struggled for words. He could've spoken of her boundless kindness, the way she cocked her head slightly to the right and smiled when he presented her with his rudimentary alchemic creations, and her laughter that reminded him of birdsong. He remembered how she lingered in the doorway until she was certain he and Ed were asleep, and how her apron somehow always smelled like lilacs.

His daughter looked up at him expectantly. Still, the words didn't come.

All those years of long nights alone preserved each memory too carefully. For every one of her smiles, there was one of her gazing longingly out the window waiting for someone who could never return. For every moment of laughter, he was reminded of how her hand went limp in Ed's that fateful day.

"Papa?"

Al looked down at his daughter. The smile had fallen from her face. He massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Listen," he said, "I think you better ask Uncle Ed about it. He's a way better storyteller!"

The smile that followed rested upon his face like an unconvincing mask.

"Ok…" she said, the disappointment too evident in her voice.

The little girl reluctantly slid off his lap and disappeared into the dark edges of the room.

Al hung his head.

"I'm sorry, Trisha."


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't long before sleep conquered Al's mind once again. Winters never failed to be the most difficult season. Sometimes, he would go for days without seeing light; sleep squandering the few precious hours of daylight that existed. He was foolish to think that escaping his armor shell would mean escaping the eternity of a night spent alone. Yet, that was when he felt most in tune with his thoughts. Suddenly, the sun would arrive, and that little human quirk called fatigue would overpower him. It was better than it used to be, but he still had a long way to go.

In sleep, he, much to his dismay, found himself once again trapped within his armor. HIs vision was narrowed by the confines of the helmet. In front of him, his childhood home blazed in the darkness, as it had done so many years ago. Ed and Winry stood motionless to his right. The words exchanged between them sounded garbled, as if they were speaking underwater.

"They'll be alight, Al."

Stunned, Al turned towards his left. Trisha stood beside him, just as he remembered her; lavender dress, white apron, her brown hair in a lazy ponytail, and a gentle smile on her face. Al said nothing and turned his attention back towards the blaze in front of him.

"Just be sure to come home soon!" she said cheerfully.

Al glanced back to his left, only to realize his mother was gone. He turned back towards the house and searched for her presence somewhere within the disintegrating structure.

"Alphonse?"

The dream shattered around him. His eyes jerked open. Mei offered him a warm smile.

"You were dreaming again!" she said.

Al said nothing. She took note of the sheen of sweat on his skin and his quickened breath. The smile withered from her face.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Al finally met her gaze and shook his head.

"Nothing," he said, "I think I just need a little bit of fresh air."

Mei smiled again.

"We'll talk about it later," she said, "Trisha's asleep, but I'll be here when you get back!"

"Thanks!" Al said as he raised himself out of his chair and started towards the door of the reading room.

"Where are you going to go?" Mei asked.

Al's hand hesitated for a second on the brassy doorknob that shimmered slightly in the dim light of the room.

"Home," he said.


	3. Chapter 3

Al's thin orange wool sweater did a poor job of protecting him against the chilly March night. Navigation was made easy by potent memory and the brightness of an endless sky violently ablaze with stars. It was a sight he always missed during all those endless nights spent under Central's light-bleached sky. Little changed in the mountains. Even in the ten years since the Promised Day, the only noticeable difference in Resembool occurred when Winry finally convinced Pinako to pave the terribly rutted road that lead up to the house. Al chuckled. Of all the things the old woman could've been stubborn about…

Al's pace slowed as he neared the bottom of the overgrown path that lead to the ruins of his childhood home. The charred skeleton of a single tree still stood guard over the rubble heaped at its base. As he neared the ruin, he noticed how choked with moss the splintered beams were. He eventually came to a stop at the same place where he watched his home go up in flames over fifteen years before. How quickly the time had passed. Out of habit, Al reached into his pocket. The silver pocket watch that once belonged to Ed gleamed in the starlight as he withdrew it; a symbolic gift to celebrate his resignation from the military. Instead of checking the time, he flipped open the watch's cover and rubbed his thumb over the date scratched into the metal.

"Couldn't sleep again?"

Al jumped in surprise and turned around.

"Brother?"

Ed gave Al a small wave as he neared the ruin.

"How did you–" he started.

"Mei called me," Ed explained, "She's worried about you."

Al turned slightly back towards the remains of their house.

Oh… Yeah, I suppose," he said quietly.

"She told me you were 'going home,'" said Ed with a shrug, "I kinda figured here was where you meant."

Al gave him a half-hearted nod.

"So, how's everyone?" he asked as Ed came to a rest at his right.

"Everyone's great!"

Several moments slipped by in silence. Al's eyes remained fixed on the phantom flames blazing in front of him. Ed sighed.

"What are you doing here, Al?" he asked.

"I had a dream about that night," he explained without shifting his gaze, "Mom was there."

Ed folded his arms across his chest.

"She told me to come home," he said, "So I did. But everything is still the same."

"What were you expecting?" asked Ed, "Don't tell me you actually believe Mom was trying to communicate with you in a dream."

"Of course not," retorted Al.

A deep crease formed between his brows.

"I don't know what I was expecting," Al said, "Maybe just for something to be different. But nothing's changed."

He gestured to the mossy ruins in from of them.

" _This_ hasn't changed. _I_ haven't changed."

The frustration in his voice grew stronger.

"I thought that after I got my body back, I'd be a different person. A stronger person. A person who would finally be able to move on from the mistakes we fought so hard to correct, and the sadness. But I'm not. Coming back here just proves it."

"You're an idiot."

Al turned towards Ed, his expression a mixture of confusion and anger.

"What the hell, Ed?! What was that for?!"

"You're not listening to yourself," he explained, "Coming here proves nothing. Some part of you remembered that this was a place we were happy when our world was simpler. It's not surprising that it lead you here."

Al turned back towards the ruin. His expression grew softer.

"We both know there's nothing here for us anymore," Ed continued, "Knowing mom, she wouldn't hold you back. She never did. Your memory of her is perfect. She wanted to you to wake up and go home."

Al said nothing.

"Whether you've changed or not, the world around you certainly has."

The phantom flames slowly began to fade away.

"Go home, Al."

Ed turned and started his short walk home.

Al crept his way through his own dark house not long after. He slipped off his shoes and quietly slipped into bed. Mei fingers entangled themselves in his own in the dark.

"I'm home," he whispered.

"I knew you'd find your way back."


	4. Chapter 4

For the first time in a long time, Al slept. No hours slept alone with his thoughts with his gaze glued the clock on his bedside table. No tossing and turning. No nightmares. Just sleep. When the light filtering in from the thin curtains covering the bedroom window woke him, he rolled over to find that Mei was already up. A groggy smile spread across his face as he heard her muffled voice drift down the hallway into the room. When he finally made his way into the dimly lit kitchen, he found Mei pouring herself a cup of coffee with Trisha clinging to her light blue robe.

"Morning," he said as he reached into a cupboard for a mug.

"I'm glad you slept!" said Mei cheerfully as she sprinkled a spoonful of sugar into her coffee.

"Papa!"

The fatigue left Trisha's eyes instantly as she half-ran, half-scrambled across the kitchen to hug Al around the knees. He reached down and lifted her onto his hip.

"And an extra special good morning to you!" Al said with a smile.

Trisha's turquoise eyes sparkled, and he suddenly remembered the question that had thrown him back into the darkness. His smile faded. Trisha's grin dissolved into a gaze of concern.

"Papa?"

"I want to show you something," Al said suddenly.

He quickly glanced at Mei. She smiled and nodded. Trisha's gazed shifted quickly between her parents.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's a surprise!" explained Al.

Trisha's grin returned as Al lowered her onto one of the chairs encircling their small kitchen table. He grabbed two metal spoons from a nearby drawer and set them down in front of her. Trisha watched him with wide eyes as Al clapped, placed his hands on the table, and angular red light filled the room. When it faded, a small metal figure of a horse stood where the two spoons had been.

"Was that magic?!" she gasped.

"No, no. It was alchemy. It's science!" explained Al with a laugh, "I made it for you!"

"Really?!"

She lunged across the table and grasped the metal horse in her tiny hands.

"I _love_ it!" she squealed as she leaned back in her chair and met his gaze.

A lump formed in Al's throat. Her expression was one he knew well, but one he hadn't seen in years. His vision grew blurry with tears, and for once, he let them fall.

"Papa?"

He felt Mei's hands on his shoulders and quickly chased away the tears with the heels of his hands. Trisha's face was etched with a mixture of confusion and concern.

"It's ok!" Al said, "Don't worry about me. I was just remembering something."

Trisha's expression softened. Mei took a seat next to him. He met her gaze.

"Go on," she whispered.

"Trisha?"

"Hm?"

She shifted the small metal horse nervously between her small hands.

"Do you want to hear about your grandmother?"

The young girl's eyes lit up, "Yes!"

Al leaned forward and hoisted his daughter onto his lap. She looked up at him expectantly.

"Well," he began, "Where to start?"


End file.
